No Looking Back
by doreese
Summary: Following the death of Fitzgerald Thomas "Gerry" Grant IV, the world of Olivia Pope was sent into a tailspin. She went away for a time, but has returned, vowing to not look back. What does this mean for Fitzgerald Grant III, POTUS and Olivia's married lover, who has tried to carry forth without her? Can they ever beat the forces that conspire to keep them forever apart?
1. Chapter 1

_I'm not supposed to be here._

Her return to Washington was supposed to be temporary. Arrange the funeral and then disappear again. That was the plan. In and out is what she had agreed upon before leaving that blessed island. She hadn't intended to be thrown back into cleaning up people's messes. She hadn't intended to publicly declare war on a United States Senator, but that's exactly what happened after a young woman appeared on her doorstep armed with desperate wide eyes and a story of chaos. It was a siren song that she couldn't turn away from, much to the chagrin of her partner Jake Ballard.

They could return to the island after handling this business. It was only a matter of hopping back on the plane whenever ready. With her father's assistance, she and Jake would be standing on the warm white sands off the coast of Tanzania once more. She'd again be Julia Baker, a woman who spent her days luxuriating next to postcard blue waters, sipping on exclusively made red wine and exploiting the naked body of her handsome companion.

What she hadn't considered was the high probability of running into _him_. In her spur of the moment decision to stay, she had been focused only on how to reframe the narrative in favor of her new client. He hadn't come to mind. Even if he had, crossing paths with him wasn't enough of a deterrent. She wasn't going to pass up this chance to again don her gladiator armor just because he was around. Anything short of threatening the life of...

Olivia Pope reluctantly lifted her eyes to where he stood a short distance away. Butterflies. Shortness of breath. A stabbing pain in the proximity of her heart. This was her second time seeing him in the span of a few days and her reaction was still the same. Despite the two months spent alone in paradise with a different man, this one was still capable of rendering her senseless. It scared her, this inexplicable power that he had over her; that they had over each other.

_Anything short of threatening the life of Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III would fail in chasing her out of Washington, DC_. That was what she was thinking as her eyes met his and brought the thought to a halt. The jolt she felt was like the push of a reset button, leaving her mentally grasping for the fast fading hand of her alter ego Julia Baker.

"Can Ms. Pope and I have the room?"

His quiet demand had the effect of a whip crack in the noisy room, sending aides scrambling to do his bidding with an urgency before unseen by Olivia. It was jarring to watch as they nearly tripped over themselves on their way out of the room.

With the door clicking shut behind the last of the lot, Olivia's attention returned to Fitz, only to find that his focus was on the pages of the report that he clutched like a lifesaver. The news reports hadn't been exaggerating. There was a discernible change in him. A sharpened focus. A heightened determination. A seriousness that he wore like a shield of armor. He was presidential in a way that she was certain made Cyrus Beene's black heart thump with elation. It only made hers burn with sadness and regret.

"You seem well."

Olivia blinked when she realized that he was talking to her. "Much better than you, it would appear," she said in return.

He was now focused on her like a laser beam, causing the wings of the butterflies in her stomach to beat even faster. Had his voice always held this timber? She was starting to feel somewhat delirious.

_She's nervous._

The thought drifted to him as he noted her finger tapping lightly against the side of her Prada Saffiano. Despite doing her best to affect an air of detachment, she was just as discombobulated as he. She'd have succeeded in convincing him otherwise if she hadn't broken eye contact and pursed her lips tighter than they already were.

Speaking again, he said, "Appearances can be deceiving."

This brought her attention back to him. She seemed to be at odds as to what to say to that, so she offered no reply.

He idly wondered how it was possible for her to had gotten more beautiful since the last time he saw her. Her skin was a shade or two deeper than he remembered, her hair streaked with sun-bleached strands. She'd been in the tropics, no doubt. Two months of basking in the sun with someone else while he fought his personal demons alone in hell.

"I didn't expect you to take this on," Fitz said as he tossed the report onto a nearby table and slid his hands into his pockets. "I appreciate you making the time. Mellie has been having a hard time of it. It may have been too much to expect the press to show some empathy for a woman who's still grieving her son."

Olivia took a moment to set her purse down in a nearby chair. This was not the conversation she expected. He was keeping it on business and she would follow suit. It was probably best that way.

"The tabloids aren't exactly known for their restraint, Mr. President," she replied while leaning up against the backside of the chair. "The situation with the First Lady does leave the White House open to questions about her mental state."

"It's none of their business," Fitz growled in an undertone. Feeling restless, he made his way over to the bar and poured himself a glass of water. "Given the circumstances, she's doing the best she can."

"I know."

Fitz stood in place for a moment, head slightly bowed. He had the glass in his hand, but had yet to lift it to his lips. He appeared to be mulling something over. Olivia couldn't be sure, but she was certain that he was running on empty. Sheer force of will was keeping him upright. She itched to close the distance between them, but chose instead remain where she was.

"How are you?"

Her question succeeded in bringing him back from wherever his mind had drifted, and he finally took a drink of the water.

Stealing a glance in her direction, he acknowledged her effort with a small smile as he said, "Better."

There was no imagining the intimacy that laced that one word. It was palpable in the space between them. Olivia knew that tone and she understood it. It carried with it a promise of pleasure and danger, of the forbidden. The emotion reflected in his eyes had her contemplating falling headlong over the cliff.

Breaking eye contact, Olivia paced some distance away from him. The intensity of that flame was too hot.

"We have to change the narrative," she spoke, steering the conversation back to business. "Shift the focus off of Mellie by putting the spotlight on the papers. Paint them as opportunistic vultures who are willing to exploit even the First Lady of the United States during a time of great tragedy. Personalize it. Drive home the point that people deal with grief in different ways."

Fitz watched her pace back and forth while she rapidly fired off their attack plan. He had almost forgotten how much he loved watching her strategize, how quickly she could spot a weakness in the opposition and exploit it to her advantage. She was fluent in reputation destruction as well as its rehabilitation. Olivia Pope on her own was a weapon in ways he cared not to acknowledge at the moment.

"Meanwhile, we'll need to get Mellie to a professional. The both of you."

This last bit brought him back to the conversation. "No. No, we're fine."

"Mr. President-"

"No. She's been through enough."

He was giving her a look that brokered no argument, but he knew better than to believe that Olivia was going to back off. She was as tenacious as he was stubborn.

"Fitz..."

His name slipped from her lips like a forbidden word whispered only in the darkest of corners. She hadn't meant to deviate from her previous form of address, but she saw his wall going up and had to keep him from disappearing behind it.

"She needs more than you can give her," Olivia continued. "And you need more than you're allowing for yourself. I can have a list of trusted doctors available for your assessment within the hour if the White House appointed one isn't to your liking." She took a moment to allow him to absorb what she had just said before adding, "See somebody. Please."

Fitz was quiet for a moment and then he asked, "Have you seen anyone?"

"We're not talking about me," she said. "We're talking about you and Mellie and the fact that the newspapers have taken to calling her Madam First Crazy. We're talking about how your family is being painted as being on the brink of disaster. We're talking about shifting attention away from that narrative. We are not talking about me."

Fitz pushed away from the bar and quickly closed the distance between them. He had expected her to retreat, but she held her ground and stared defiantly up at him. There was nothing nervous about her now. He desperately wanted to touch her, taste her. He wanted to drown himself in her and never come up for air.

"You could have given me a head's up."

The shift in subject didn't surprise her and she didn't pretend to misunderstand him. "Why? So you could've stopped me?"

"So I could've understood your headspace," he answered. "I don't think I'd have succeeded in stopping you anyway."

"Fitz…"

"We promised to be honest with each other, Liv."

"I had to leave-"

"With Jake?"

"I'm not having this conversation with you." Olivia attempted to breeze past him, but he blocked her path, causing her to take a few steps back.

"You don't think you owe me an explanation?"

This was the conversation she expected when he cleared the room, and now that it was here, she wanted no part of it.

"I don't answer to you. What I choose to do, where I choose to go and who I choose to go with, is none of your business. It requires no clearance from you. I am not your wife," she spat and then finally proceeded past him to grab her purse.

"Liv."

She stopped short of the door, refusing to turn towards him.

"I'm sorry," he quietly apologized. "You're right. It's none of my business, but I'm hoping that someday you'll be willing to explain it to me." When she remained turned away from him, he continued. "I'd like to take a look at that list of doctors you mentioned...if the offer is still on the table. And if you're still on the job."

"The list will be in your possession within the hour."

With that, Olivia opened the door and sashayed out of the room.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Let me know what you think: good or bad. I'm open to constructive criticism. Thank you for reading! :)<strong>_


	2. Chapter 2

"The makeup's still in tact," Cyrus said by way of greeting as he plopped down next to Olivia on the park bench. "Long time away from each other and all you two did was make moon eyes? I can't imagine the restraint."

"Here's the list he requested," Olivia slapped a manila envelope against his chest and stood up from her seat. "Don't call me again."

Cyrus grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back down to her vacated spot. "Rome still burns and the water trucks have yet to arrive. I don't have to tell you that the situation is not yet handled," he hissed into her ear. "And it's not like you to turn coward and bolt on him during a crisis. What's happened to the gladiator in a suit?"

Olivia tried to break his grip, but he held firm. "She's undergone some renovation."

"A renovation that leaves him out in the cold?"

"That is not fair."

Cyrus adjusted his seating position so he could address her more directly. "Fairness is one of those idealistic concepts that gives me the hives. I don't do fair, Liv. I make things happen. This Grant White House is still standing because I make things happen. You know this better than anyone."

Olivia remained steadfastly staring out at nothing in particular and offered no response. It was then that Cyrus let go of her wrist.

"If it were up to me, I'd just do away with Mellie Grant and save us all the trouble," he mused aloud, causing Olivia to turn to him in horror. "What? The thought has its merits."

"You are not killing Mellie Grant."

"Never said I was. What happened to your sense of humor?"

"Joking about 'doing away' with the First Lady of the United States is never funny," Olivia scolded. "The job you blackmailed me into doesn't require me to be physically present to be effective. I can work with Abby to-"

"The job requires you to be hands on."

Olivia let out an outraged laugh. "What?"

"My earlier statement notwithstanding, I see that you're doing everything you can to keep your distance from him, and I commend that," Cyrus remarked. "Restricting your access to this President is permanently bulleted at number two of my daily to-do list. You are a distraction that this Administration cannot afford, especially now."

"So why am I here?"

"We require your unmatched expertise in handling a situation of this sensitivity," Cyrus cajoled and then watched for her reaction to his statement. After a moment, he begrudgingly added, "And he's better with you than he is without."

"No."

"He's having a hell of a time, Liv-"

"You are not doing this to me," Olivia cut him off. "You are not dragging me back down that rabbit hole. He is not my problem."

"You're violating our agreement-"

"You don't tell a fireman how to put out a blaze, Cyrus," she snapped as she rolled her eyes towards him. "You call them in and they use their expertise to kill the flames. You are never in a position to tell them how or when to do their job."

Sitting forward in her seat, Olivia turned towards him to address him further. "I do this through Abby or I don't do it all. Should it be the latter, our 'agreement' will be null and void," she told him. "When that happens, I'd invite you to do your worst because you know what? Telling him about phone calls I never made will be a much bigger problem for you than it will ever be for me."

"He won't like this, Liv."

She patted him on the cheek and said, "You'll make sure that he does."

* * *

><p><em>Later that evening at The Residence<em>

Fitz loosened his tie as he made his way to the closet. "It'll help shift the media's attention to something else," he spoke from deep within the room. "And accounting for what we learned about the previous physician on staff, it may not be a bad idea to consider an outsider who can be discreet."

Mellie slid the small packet from the manila envelope and leafed through its sheets without reading what looked to be detailed information on six doctors. "But we're talking about a shrink," she said with some bewilderment. "I know I've been somewhat lax in the grooming department, but since when does that justify a stint at St. Elizabeth's?"

Fitz pulled a gray T-shirt down over his head while making his way back into the room. "Mel, a psychiatric hospital is not the proposal. I'd never agree to such a thing."

"But you'd agree to us seeing a head doctor."

"I only agreed to giving the list a look see, and that's what we're doing now," Fitz explained as he came to stand a short distance away from where she sat on the sofa. "All of the doctors on that list have stellar reputations and aren't particularly media friendly. They are good options."

Mellie was momentarily quiet as she took note of her husband's attire. Dark striped boxer shorts and a gray Navy tee. Of course.

"How is she, your Olivia? I trust she's well if she back to directing our lives," Mellie remarked as she tossed the packet onto a nearby side table. "You must be as happy as a clam at high tide. When should I expect the sneaking about to resume?"

"Mellie…"

"I honestly don't know why you bother to hide it anymore," she continued while gesturing with a glass in her hand. "Anyone with eyes can see you're besotted with each other. It's a wonder nothing made it to the press prior to you leaking it yourself. How's that plan working out for ya?"

Fitz sighed as he wandered away from her and towards the sideboard to pour himself a drink. "Olivia will be working with Cyrus and the Press Office," he explained. "Her presence here will be minimal and there'll be no further interactions with me. You have nothing to worry about."

At that, he took a hearty swallow of his chosen scotch and waited for the alcohol to dull the pain that accompanied the words he had just spoken. Olivia wanted to continue to keep her distance and he had no choice but to give her that, even though it chafed. Even though there were so many questions left unanswered.

When Fitz said nothing more, Mellie glanced over to find him staring into his glass in mild confusion. "Oh, honey," she drawled in an amused tone. "I've been married to you for twenty something odd years. I've become proficient at reading you. Nothing to worry about? Baby, I've seen this movie before."

She chuckled as she took a sip of her martini. "Olivia Pope disappears and so does my husband," she continued. "I've spent the last four years watching it happen. Soon after it does, you turn into this mimic of how you think the rest of the world wants to see you. Pretending is what's real, right?"

She toasted him with her near empty glass and then to herself mumbled, "I'd know a thing or two about that."

Fitz drowned the rest of his scotch and refilled his glass. There were a few things he could say in response to Mellie's accusations, but all of them would provoke her even further. He was much too tired to lock horns with her tonight.

Taking a calming breath, he asked, "Are we for or against the shrink?"

"I'm not crazy."

"I know that."

"Is she what it'll take for you to finally talk about our son?" Mellie quietly asked. "To talk about anything?"

She held up a hand when she saw that he was set to interject. "I know you're going to say that we talk all the time, but we're always talking about policy and what move you should make to get the Party's backing and how delicious dinner was. We visit our son's grave and you bring work along as if he was my son alone and I'm the only one who lost him."

"I'm always there with you," Fitz said in his own defense.

"We aren't sharing anything but space!" Mellie lamented. "You think you're giving me support by passing me chips and letting me do as I please? What I want is a partner in this. I need you in this with me. He was our son, not just mine."

Fitz was silent with thought. Had he been so self-absorbed in his own misery not to had been there for Mellie as he could have? He had been doing enough, hadn't he? Commiseration wasn't in the cards for him, not when he knew of the true nature of Gerry's death; not when he was the reason for his death.

Setting down his glass, Fitz made his way over to the sofa and sat down next to Mellie. He took her hand in his and gave her a small smile as he said, "We're in this together, Mel. You and me. We'll get through this."

At his words, something shifted in her eyes. He was unsure of what it was for it disappeared before he could analyze it. She gave him a weak smile then and squeezed his hand in acknowledgement.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Hmm. Will Olivia truly be able to keep her distance from Fitz? Will Fitz be able to keep his distance from her? Dear grieving Mellie. She's not too happy about Olivia's return to Washington DC and into their lives. Does she still have hope for she and Fitz? <strong>_

_**Thanks so much for all of your comments with the first chapter! You all are the best. Your comments on this chapter are welcome. :)**_


	3. Chapter 3

_I shouldn't be here._

That singular thought bounced around in her head as her eyes focused on the cold white blankness of the ceiling above her. Sleep danced just outside of her reach, refusing to come close enough to be claimed. Her mind was a kaleidoscope of activity, whirling from one thing to next and yet inevitably and always settling on _him_.

Olivia sighed in resignation. A glance at the bedside clock told her that it was a quarter to four in the morning. With sleep proving to be a stubborn bastard, getting started on the day seemed the best use of her energies.

Her attempt to rise from bed was hampered by the sleep-heavy arm that was draped across her midsection. She turned to look into the face of the man to whom it belonged. Jake was dead to the world and had been for the past number of hours. Collapsing into oblivion was his usual habit after sex, and depending on the intensity of the session, he could be out till well after day broke.

With a private smile, Olivia carefully slipped from beneath his arm and sat up at the edge of the bed. She found his dress shirt where it had been discarded and slipped into it. She then grabbed the near empty bottle of 94 du Bellay and quietly made her way towards the kitchenette.

Foregoing the use of a glass, she took a swig of the wine directly from the bottle and settled into one of the two counter seats. She caressed the bottle's label as if it held a message within that she somehow missed with its sister bottles. The last of the du Bellay from her time on the island, she idly wondered what would happen once it was depleted.

Losing the carefree Julia Baker and reclaiming the familiar Olivia Pope should have been an easy transition, something akin to exchanging new shoes for an already broken-in pair, but it wasn't. Things looked the same, but they felt different. Distant. Cold.

Olivia reached for the remote control and turned on the TV. She desperately wanted to silence the part of herself that refused to let go of _him_, the part that always drifted back to Fitzgerald Grant. He had been a dull ache while she was away, throbbing just beneath the surface, recalled whenever her mind went idle. Being face to face with him at the Capitol left her grappling with how to restore her tattered equilibrium. The wine and sex with Jake should have set things to rights, but she was instead even more befuddled.

Settling on the BNC channel, Olivia lowered the TV volume and was about to have another taste of wine when her phone vibrated with an incoming call. She reached across the counter top for it and frowned slightly at the unfamiliar number.

"Don't answer it," Jake whispered against her ear, startling her with his proximity. "Come back to bed with me."

"When did you creep over here?" she asked, a smile in her voice. Her attention was still on the buzzing phone.

"Creep? You mean you didn't hear me when I tripped over the table and kicked down the centerpiece?" he asked as he engulfed her in an embrace from behind. "I wasn't exactly quiet."

Olivia looked in the direction of the coffee table and found it and the centerpiece in tact.

"The fact that you had to look tells me how far away you were. Where'd you go?" he asked as he kissed her temple and released her to rub along her arms. "No way I'd take that kind of a spill and you not notice. But then again, you didn't notice that I didn't actually trip over the table. What's on your mind, Liv?"

The wine bottle in front of her brought it together for him. "Our return to the island is but a number away. We can call it quits now if that's what you want."

Olivia remained mum. It wasn't a what on her mind, but a who. His assumption as to her thoughts was not wrong, but neither was it right. This was one of those times when it was wise to keep her thoughts to herself.

The phone vibrated again and Olivia saw that it was the same number. A call coming in this early was never good, and when the caller was this persistent, the situation promised to be a disaster worthy of prison. As tempting as it was to crawl back into bed with Jake, Olivia needed a distraction of the gladiating kind.

"I have to take this."

"Of course, you do."

Giving him an apologetic kiss on his bristled jaw, she clicked on the Answer icon and raised the phone to her ear.

"Olivia Pope."

She slipped from the counter chair and started for the bedroom when she drew up short. "Where are you?"

* * *

><p>The elevator chimed as it came to a shaky stop. Olivia dashed out of the cab and onto the fifth floor, her heels tapping loudly as her feet quickly ate up ground. She rounded a corner to find Quinn Perkins pacing outside of one of the hospital rooms and hastened her steps to get to her.<p>

When Quinn caught sight of Olivia, she let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God."

Olivia continued past her to take a peek into the room. "How is she?"

"Stable. Sedated. The few here didn't know who she was until Nurse Ginger decided to enlighten them."

Quinn turned then to look at the red-haired nurse and gave her a facetious smile. "She's a feisty one."

Olivia proceeded into the patient's room and closed the door behind her, completely missing the rest of what Quinn was saying. The room screamed VIP with its plush sofas, hardwood flooring, and sconced lighting. It lacked the stench of illness that clung to the walls of rooms designated for less prestigious patients, but it still possessed a cold stillness that made Olivia break out in goosebumps. Hospitals had a tendency to unnerve her.

Looking down at the unconscious young woman in the bed, Olivia noted her sallow skin and then all the beeping monitors that she was hooked to. The girl's parents were going to be worried and shocked and confused and maybe a little angry. She hoped they'd hold off on expressing the latter long enough to understand what drove their daughter to this point.

Olivia caressed the girl's hand and gave it a slight squeeze before stepping away. The road ahead was going to be a hard one for her, and Olivia was willing to do what she could to soften the upcoming bump. The rest will be up to the girl and her parents.

Quinn was leaning against the front side of the nurses' station when Olivia reemerged from the room. She was still taunting the nurse from earlier.

"Quinn!" Olivia barked when her earlier call didn't gain her attention. "What's with the gun?"

Quinn looked down at the weapon in her hand, appearing to had forgotten that she wielded it. "I had to keep them all in one spot somehow," she answered as she tucked the gun into the back of her waistband. "Confiscated their cell phones and tablets during my brief reign of terror." She motioned with her head towards a small pile on the far end of the nurses' station.

"Huck's got his eye on any communication to the outside that could reveal her identity. Cell, landlines, emails, social media. All being monitored."

Olivia nodded to acknowledge her words and then paced back towards the room to look in on the patient through the door window.

Quinn joined her at the door, and after a moment's pause, she asked, "What now?"

Just then, two men emerged from the stairwell and took up position on either side of its door. The elevator chimed and a swarm of Secret Service Agents emerged from its bowels, followed closely by the President, his First Lady and his Chief of Staff.

"They take it from here," Olivia answered as she straightened her back and turned towards the approaching group.


	4. Chapter 4

"How the hell did _she_ get involved?" Mellie sneered while roaming about the room like a caged animal.

Olivia felt rather than saw the baleful look Mellie shot at her back. She had been prepared for the hostility, but was caught off guard by Mellie's appearance. The First Lady was dressed in a floral pajama top, a ratty bathrobe and sweatpants that were tucked into a pair of stained UGG boots. Her hair was bedraggled and looked to have a Jolly Rancher tangled in it. Olivia couldn't be sure.

"Our daughter is 500 miles away from school for God only knows what reason, she's in this hospital because she tried to kill herself, and somehow this _family _situation has come to involve your Olivia," Mellie spat at her husband before she turned to the object of her ire and asked, "Why are you here, Olivia?"

Though she gave Mellie some license to act like the unbalanced creature that she resembled at the moment, Olivia's patience with these sophomoric tantrums had its limit and Mellie was dancing dangerously close to it.

"Karen is why she's here, Mel. Karen called her. Liv's explained this already," Fitz said with some annoyance. "Twice."

"As if I'd ever believe my daughter would turn to your girlfriend for help instead of her own mother," Mellie scoffed. "You're the reason she's here, Fitzgerald. You called her here."

Fitz threw his hands up in frustration and then buried them in his hair to keep from slamming his fists into the nearby wall. Cyrus was on another side of the room mumbling about how it would have been easier had he eliminated the "weak link" when he had the chance.

Olivia stood with her arms folded across her chest, her face betraying nothing of her inner thoughts. She promised Karen that she would stay long enough to serve as an intermediary between her and her parents, but Olivia was starting to wonder if the girl's mother would calm down long enough to listen to anything Olivia had to stay. It's been fifteen minutes and the woman showed no sign of letting up.

"Our daughter isn't one of her cases that needs fixing," Mellie resumed her diatribe. "Karen is my child, my daughter. You already have my husband," she spoke in Olivia's direction. "I will handle this as I do everything else. Your services are no longer required."

Cyrus momentarily struggled with whether he should chime in at this point, and decided to toss caution to the wind. "Pardon my interjection, Mellie, but how do you intend on 'handling' this exactly? With martinis and chicken wings?" He was incredulous. "Have you smelled yourself lately? Can you fix _that_ first?"

"Cy!"

"Don't you dare 'Cy' me, Liv!" he hissed, his irritation plain. "She's talking about fixing this? Fixing a matter that could have the world questioning the fitness of this White House should it come out that in addition to the First Lady emulating the homeless and eating corn chips at her son's grave, that the First Daughter attempted to take her own life? This is what she is talking about fixing?"

"Cyrus."

He glanced up at the President and backed down from his attack. "Begging your pardon, sir, but the First Lady is not Olivia Pope. If she were, Olivia wouldn't be here."

"If I were Olivia, I'd be screwing someone else's husband," Mellie interrupted. "I suppose it's all part of her service to the Office."

"That's enough."

Mellie laughed. "Of course, you'd come to her defense!"

"I should go," Olivia announced as she gathered her purse and coat. Staying to honor a promise to Karen Grant was a bad idea from the start.

"Liv..."

"That sounds like an excellent idea," Mellie interrupted before Fitz could further protest. "The woman that you believe needs professional help has managed to handle the last two months of this family's mess just fine in your absence and in the twenty years before your existence, so you may leave."

Turning now to her husband, she gave him a pointed look and snidely said, "This isn't even my first time at the rodeo."

"Don't do this," Fitz pleaded.

The odd tone in his voice caused Olivia to stop halfway to the door and turn back towards the room, towards him. His face was tight with pain and betrayal and...fear? The tension between husband and wife made Olivia suddenly anxious, a sense of foreboding washing over her. She found herself willing Mellie to keep whatever else she meant to say to herself.

"Karen always did like to follow in her daddy's footsteps. From academics right on down to the compulsion to end one's life," Mellie stated with a smirk and then added, "Like father, like daughter."

The words fell upon the room like expensive china on marble tiles.

_Fitz tried to…. _

Olivia felt claustrophobic as the thought hung unfinished in her stunned mind. She couldn't pull her eyes away from his blood-drained face. She couldn't breathe.

"Judging from the look on your face, I'd say that you knew nothing of this," Mellie addressed Olivia and then gave her a mock look of sympathy. "It was such a difficult time for our Fitzgerald," she went on. "Damaged wife. Dead kid. Missing mistress. All those presidential duties. His life would shake even Goliath."

"Stop it," Fitz said through clenched teeth.

Cyrus stepped up to Mellie then to waylay further commentary. "I understand your frustrations, Mellie. I really do, but this is a bit heavy on the overshare, don't you think?" he remarked. "Now despite Liv's team herding the nurses to a side corner and us being in this private room, the walls still have ears. And those ears are attached to heads that have mouths that talk. And those mouths talking about things that their ears overheard from this room will give us all one hell of a headache, so how about we take a break from the fire breathing?"

Mellie took a moment to look over at a shell-shocked Olivia and then at the rigid form of her husband before responding. "Fine. I'll go be with my daughter now."

She turned on her heel and proceeded out of the room with Cyrus following close behind.

* * *

><p>The silence that enveloped them made the knot in Olivia's gut tighten. It felt faintly like talons running underneath her rib cage whenever she tried to take a deep breath. The lump in her throat refused to abate and she was starting to feel inexplicably anxious. Watching Fitz's carefully blank side profile compelled her to finally break the quiet.<p>

"Fitz?"

The sound of his name on her lips struck Fitz in the chest, and he closed his eyes in an effort to somehow ward off the sensation. There were numerous questions wrapped into that one utterance, none of which he was capable of answering just then. Not here. Not like this.

Fitz knew she was watching him, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her. He didn't want to see the expression on her face. Was it disgust? Pity?

"I appreciate you being here for Karen," he spoke. "I hate to think of what could have happened had she reached out to someone else...or to no one at all. These months haven't been easy for her. For any of us."

Olivia nodded even though she knew he couldn't see it. "Karen was in a bad way. Thought checking out was the way to go," she relayed with some unease. "She panicked when the pills didn't work, and so she called the only crisis manager she knew."

"No," Fitz shook his head at that last bit. "She called someone she could trust. Thank you. We wouldn't still have her if you hadn't-" He cut himself off and said nothing further.

Olivia looked heavenward and blinked her eyes a few times to keep the threatening tears at bay. She hadn't allowed herself to think of the fact that Karen's fate could have ended up very differently. That would have meant the loss of two Grant children in less than three months.

Olivia let out a slow breath as she once again settled her gaze onto Fitz. He could have been gone, too.

"What happened with you?" she asked without preamble.

Fitz started speaking again as if Olivia had said nothing at all. "I'm sorry about Mellie. With things being as they are, it's all been a bit of a strain. She shouldn't have said those things to you. She shouldn't have said a lot of things..."

"Fitz-"

"Am I speaking with Livvie or Olivia Pope right now?" he interrupted as he finally brought his eyes up to meet hers. Tear-spiked lashes framed her warm brown orbs, which reflected with concern. "From what I've been made to understand, there's a line that you don't want us to cross. Are you changing those terms?"

His questions caught Olivia off guard. Before she had the opportunity to formulate a response, a knock sounded at the door and Cyrus's head popped in through the small opening.

"Sir, the doctor is asking for you," he informed his boss.

"Thank you, Cyrus."

Noting that Fitz remained as he had been, staring intently at Olivia instead of following him out the door, Cyrus shrugged and made himself scarce once more.

"So," Fitz said as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks. "Are you changing the terms?"

Olivia exhaled as she contemplated him. He wasn't going to answer her question unless her reply to his was in the affirmative. "I'll make sure that none of this gets leaked to the press," she said instead and Fitz blinked away from her. "Cyrus already has a handle on the hospital staff. My team will handle the rest."

"Olivia Pope it is," Fitz remarked with a slight shake of his head.

"Fitz-"

"I have to be with my daughter now," he said to her and then left her behind in the room.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Again, let's review the talking points," Olivia directed the group of White House aides and interns, who urgently flipped through their paper and electronic notepads to find her exact words. Crammed into a makeshift war room, they listened intently as she laid out how they were to respond to the latest White House PR situation involving the First Lady.

"If there is anything that you must remember, it is this: never under any circumstances volunteer information," Olivia instructed as she paced from one side of the room to the next. "No guestimations. No probablys. No personal opinions. Do not go off script."

Olivia scanned the group to confirm that they understood what was expected. They appeared ready to carry on their assigned tasks, so she dismissed the meeting by saying, "Let's get to work."

At that, the group filed out of the room and were off to their respective desks. Abby did not exit with the rest, Olivia noted as she gathered up the folders and sheets of paper that were spread out over the center table. Abby had been in a snit since Olivia entered the room an hour earlier and she made little effort in concealing her displeasure.

"So," Abby started once they were alone. "This is a situation they didn't think I could handle on my own? Or did you insinuate yourself as you always do?"

Olivia gave her a cursory glance before returning her attention to the items she was organizing. After the start that her morning had, entertaining whatever imagined offenses Abby believed Olivia had committed against her wasn't something she was up for.

"You'll have to discuss that with your boss," Olivia responded while slipping the folders into her purse.

"I want to discuss it with you!"

"And I am telling you to seek your answer from Cyrus," she emphasized as she finally gave Abby her full attention. "I was hired to do a job just as you were. Allow me to do mine, so you can do yours."

"I don't need you for me to do my job!" Abby said to her. "I know how to do my job!"

"I never said that you didn't-"

Abby spoke right over her. "All that time you'd been gone? I survived, Liv. We all did. Well, expect Harrison. He died. We don't need you holding our hands anymore."

Olivia zipped up her purse and hooked it over her forearm in preparation to depart. "Fine," she shrugged in response. "Consider your hand unheld, though you and I both know that my presence here isn't because I'm holding your hand."

Olivia started for the door, reconsidered and then returned to Abby. "Even if this White House did have a Communications Director, I'd still be here because I am damned good at what I do," she said to her. "Be a team player and do your job. Don't allow your personal feelings about me to cloud your judgement."

"Like how you don't allow your personal feelings about the President to cloud yours?"

Olivia let out a humorless chuckle as she continued for the exit. "Enjoy the rest of your day, Abby."

* * *

><p>Out in the hallway, Olivia barely got a chance to collect herself when Cyrus snagged her by her upper arm.<p>

"How'd the meeting go?" he asked as he ambulated quickly, forcing her to keep up his pace.

"It went. Abby isn't too thrilled that I'm here," Olivia reported, and he waved it off as inconsequential. "How did things go with-"

"Finch is back in the cage," Cyrus said in reference to Karen. "And so is Firecrest, though I wouldn't consider that a plus," he added with a grumble. "What's the game plan?"

"Stress the lack of a playbook on how a highly visible public servant is supposed to grieve the loss of her son," Olivia effortlessly summarized, and Cyrus gave a slight tilt of his head to convey his acceptance of the strategy.

"Where's the President?" she asked with some impatience, not bothering to use his Secret Service codename.

"He entered the Oval 10 minutes ago."

Olivia let out a relieved breath and shared a look with Cyrus, who nodded in understanding. The last thing they needed was for the press corp to had noticed Fitz's absence, let alone learn the reason for it.

"We're good," Cyrus said to her. "We're good."

"She's going to have to bathe, Cy," Olivia remarked once they stepped into his office. "For this to work, we need Mellie Grant back. The fuzzy boots have to disappear."

"Not to mention the piece of candy in her hair," Cyrus chuckled as he circled to the other side of his desk. He looked up to see that Olivia was not amused. "For the record, I really do miss the woman who used to get my dark humor. You're such a wet blanket these days."

"It's the new and improved Olivia Pope," she remarked with little conviction and a smile she didn't feel. "You asked for her. Now you have her."

"I asked for the Olivia I knew before you absconded with your killer boyfriend. Killer as in murderer, by the way," Cyrus intoned. "And even though I have no idea who you're trying to be right now, I don't question your skills," he said while settling into his seat. "I'll handle Mellie. Bath, pearls, North Carolina big hair. Fuzzy boots, gone."

Olivia heard her phone vibrating and pulled it out of her bag to check the caller ID. "And they have to meet with the doctor," she said and was set to answer her phone when she noticed his blank look. "The psychologist, Cy. They were supposed to choose one."

"I'll handle it," Cyrus assured her.

She gave him a long stare before she finally answered her call. "Olivia Pope."

* * *

><p><em>Some time that afternoon...<em>

"Have you read this yet? Rumor has it that we're seeking therapy. Unnamed source, of course."

Fitz glanced up from the brief he was reading to find Mellie coming towards him with a bag of chips nestled in the crook of one arm and a newspaper in her other hand. This was the first he was seeing of her since they had returned from the hospital that morning, and she still looked something of a mess, though she seemed to have done something with her hair.

"There isn't a playbook on how a highly visible public servant is supposed to grieve the loss of their son," Mellie read from the newspaper as she climbed onto one of the sofas and sat not on its cushioned section, but on its top edge.

"Your Olivia works her magic," she said while tossing the paper onto the coffee table in front of her and crunching down on a chip. "Fast, too. Made it into the final edition."

Fitz kept his focus on the document in front of him and offered no response.

"You can't possibly still be upset about earlier," she remarked while biting into another chip. "If anything, it's garnered you sympathy points and will guarantee that she'll hang around for a bit. Isn't that what you want? She'll be sure to work triply hard for you now...not that she needed the incentive before."

"Don't you dare act as if sharing that information was you doing me some kind of favor," Fitz snapped. "You were upset that she was there, and you chose that very moment to hurt me instead of focusing on our daughter. That was you being vicious and vindictive."

That was his demon to share if and when he wanted to so do, and Mellie robbed him of that choice. Worse yet was her attempting to turn this into some kind of positive. What he didn't want from Olivia was her pity, and he certainly didn't want her hanging around simply because she feared that he would try to off himself again. That wasn't a burden he felt she should carry.

"While she's handling things, our interactions will be minimal. I've told you this and yet you insist on striking when there isn't a need to," he said. "She didn't deserve that."

Mellie was silent for a moment as she slid another chip into her mouth. "Is this the lie you're telling yourself now? That 'minimal interactions' will keep your loins on ice?" She laughed at the absurdity. "You did always believe in the fantastical."

"You are a miserable person."

"It's like looking in the mirror, ain't it, baby?" Mellie taunted. "I'm merely a reflection of what's going on inside of you."

Just as Fitz was set to respond, the door to the Oval Office swung open and in entered Cyrus with his leather-clad folder in hand. He briefly paused at the entryway upon spotting Mellie, but was quick to recollect himself as he closed the door and proceeded further into the room.

"Mellie," he greeted while maneuvering his way around the coffee table. "You brought corn chips today. Wonderful. Nothing says fresh quite like the smell of dirty feet in a bag. Nice hair, by the way," he said in reference to her obviously washed tresses.

"What have you got?" Fitz asked before Mellie had a chance to fire off a retort.

"I heard about what happened on the Hill."

"What happened on the Hill?" Mellie asked Cyrus.

Fitz sighed and tiredly collapsed into his leather seat. He wished he could get a do over on the day. Not much was proceeding in his favor.

"Senator Montgomery isn't budging," he told them. "The concessions weren't sufficient, he said."

Cyrus scoffed as he came to stand in front of the Resolute Desk. "Nothing short of lighting the Jews, gays and mouthy women on fire would satisfy the old coot," he remarked. "We'll just have to find another way. Circumvent him if need be."

"Circumvent him? You said doing so would be difficult," Fitz reminded him. "That's why I spent the better part of the afternoon trying to sway him to our side. We need his vote."

"And we'll get it. I have another plan in the works," Cyrus assured him.

"We're running out of time, Cy. And I haven't the patience to kowtow to the likes of Montgomery more than I already did today."

Mellie snickering to herself drew their attention and she waved them off with an apology. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but you're complaining about kowtowing? Honey, that shouldn't be too difficult for you considering how much you kowtow to Olivia. I'd even say you're something of an expert," she said right before she crunched down on yet another chip and climbed off the sofa.

Cyrus lifted his eyes up to the heavens and wondered why he always seemed to be present during these verbal spars.

"I'll leave you boys to your business, but before I go," she spoke with a smile that could skin a bear, "Visit your daughter when you get a break in your schedule. She's had a difficult morning."

Once she cleared the room, Fitz headed for the scotch. He poured himself a hearty amount and then took down a significant gulp before splashing more into the glass. He expected Cyrus to remark on the time of day, but his Chief of Staff chose to keep his own counsel.

"My life is again in disarray and I haven't as much as touched her," Fitz spoke as if to himself. "It would be amusing if this whole thing wasn't so terribly exhausting."

"She said to expect the media to move away from Madam First Crazy within a few news cycles, but that was dependent on you and Mellie seeing that shrink," Cyrus told him.

"Mellie isn't seeing the shrink."

"Sir?"

"Before this morning, I'd have said that she was open to it, but Karen turning to Liv instead of her...she won't go along with it," Fitz concluded. "Tell Olivia to find another way. This one's a dead end."

As Cyrus retreated from the room, Fitz took down another generous bit of liquor. An angry Mellie was an irrational Mellie, and she has proven in the past to be an absolute PR nightmare. He didn't need that, not now, and neither did Karen.

If he was to regain the equilibrium he'd had while Olivia was gone, he was going to have to go beyond the limitations Olivia had already placed on their interactions. That meant that all future crises would have to be handled by someone else. Things were too precarious right then for him to consider doing otherwise.

Fitz drained the rest of his drink and prayed that this dose would dull his senses enough to allow him to continue to live through the hell that was his life.

* * *

><p>Olivia stepped into the entryway of OPA and caught the sound of filtered chatter as well as the heavy smell of carryout coming from the direction of the meeting room. Upon entering the space, she found Quinn and Huck sitting in front of their laptops, assorted sheets of paper and Gettysburger bags littering the expansive table, and…<p>

"Jake."

"Hi," he smiled at her as he got up to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"What are you doing here? I thought we weren't meeting up until later."

"We were, but later is a ways away, and because you left so early this morning, I thought I'd see if I could woo you away long enough to have a bite," he explained.

"Oh."

"And since we didn't know when you'd be back, we helped ourselves," Quinn said with one side of her mouth stuffed with spicy fries. "I had no idea you ate this stuff. I've only ever seen you eat gourmet popcorn," she remarked. "Who eats gourmet popcorn?"

"Senator Hernandez called to request that the meeting be moved up to 4," Huck relayed when Olivia turned to him. "I told her you'd call to confirm."

"And the sites?"

"All clear so far," Huck answered and Olivia gave him a nod before proceeding into her office with Jake trailing close behind.

"I tried that once, you know," Quinn spoke. "Eating popcorn all day. I didn't make it past breakfast," she said with a glance over her shoulder at their boss who was peeling off her coat and hanging it on a nearby rack. "How she eats this crap and still looks the way she does it one of life's mysteries. Like the black hole," she remarked and then added, "Maybe it's the wine."

"You talk too much," Huck said without taking his eyes off of his laptop.

"Yeah, well, boredom makes me chatty," she fired back. "And trolling gossip sites for potential leaks has my eyes crossing. I know more about Kim Kardashian's fake ass than I do about my real one."

"I could tell you all about your real one if you'll stop talking for five minutes," Huck offered and it earned him a sour look, but it managed to shut her up.

Olivia rolled her eyes at the overheard conversation as she closed the door to her office. Having them watch activity on gossip sites and social media was tedious and maybe even overkill, but one could never be too careful, especially in a situation of this sensitivity. Harrison had taught her that, and she has been requiring it ever since he proved its effectiveness. No one was quite as good at it as he was.

"Like brother and sister, those two," Jake said with a mild laugh, shaking Olivia out of her momentary reverie.

She forced a smile and replied, "A dysfunctional married couple, more like."

"So what's this big case that's got all of your attention?" Jake asked, and when Olivia gave him a quizzical look in response, he said, "Come on, Liv. You left in the dead of night and haven't returned any of my calls all day. Plus, I had no luck getting those two to share the deets."

"You know I can't discuss my clients with you and neither can they. Friend of the firm or not," Olivia said to him.

"That's quite the hard line."

"That's always been the line."

"No, not always. You've put up your Chinese wall," he told her. "That could only mean one thing."

Olivia was weary. "Jake, I really don't have time for this-"

"This big case involves him, doesn't it?" he asked, which caused Olivia to sigh in exasperation as she circled to the other side of her desk. "That would explain a few things."

"What is this right now? Did you come to pick a fight with me?"

"What's there to fight about?" Jake asked while turning to look through the office's glass doors to the case wall in the adjacent meeting room. "We're standing in his shadow now, so I can't say that this was unexpected."

"This?" Olivia felt her ire coming to the fore. "I don't know what you're accusing me of, but I can tell you that I don't like it."

"Were we actually going to meet up later or were you going to find some way to blow me off?"

"Okay. We're done," Olivia said as she headed for her office doors.

"You've talked about the Hernandez case, Liv, so I think it's safe to say that you aren't invoking attorney-client privilege for that. And your case wall is blank," he pointed out to her. "Big case and nothing on the wall?"

"Huck, Jake was just leaving," Olivia announced as she held the door to her office open and dared Jake to counter her statement.

Quinn looked up startled from what she was working on just as Huck rose to his feet to lend his assistance as requested.

"I can find my way out," Jake said to Huck who had come to situate himself close to Olivia's side. Jake leaned in to give Olivia a kiss and she moved her head away from his lips. He smiled at this and told her, "Say hello to him for me."

Everyone remained frozen in their respective stances until they heard the elevator chime closed. Olivia looked away from the closed suite door to find Huck and Quinn both watching her.

"Inform Senator Hernandez that 4pm is fine," Olivia said to Quinn and didn't wait for her agreement before proceeding back into her office and closing the door behind her.

"Well. That escalated quickly," Quinn remarked as she got up to do as instructed.

Huck remained staring at Olivia from the other side of the door for a long moment. She had returned to her desk and was sitting with her face buried in her hands. He knew she wasn't crying, but he sensed that she was close to it.

"Do you need me to do anything for you?"

Olivia lifted her head from her hands to find Huck in her office. She hadn't heard him come in. And she wasn't sure how to answer that question.

"You don't have to tell me now. Just give me the word when you're ready."

With that, he left her alone once more and returned to work.

* * *

><p>Jake spoke into his phone as he exited from the building that housed OPA. "She, her entire team, they all clammed up. It's definitely something big, and there is nothing bigger in this town than the White House," he said to the person on the other end. After listening a moment, he replied with, "I am aware of the conditions. I'll make sure that it doesn't happen."<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Preview for Chapter 6<strong>

Loud ringing drew his attention away from the television. His brows drew together in confusion as he stared at the shrilling phone. He let it ring for several seconds and then decided to reach for it. Knowing who was calling before he looked at the unsaved number, he contemplated the wisdom of answering it.

Olivia's heart leapt into her throat when the ringing ceased. She checked to see if maybe her phone had hung up on its own, but she instead saw that the call was connected. She brought the phone back to her ear and listened. He was there and she suddenly didn't know what to say.

Several beats and still neither said a word.

"I need to know it's you or I'll have to hang up."

"It's me," she quickly replied and then exhaled some of the nervous energy that enclosed her.

x.x.x.x

"How the hell did this happen?" Olivia demanded as she stomped back into her office to retrieve her phone.

"I don't know. This shouldn't have happened. We took care of everyone," Quinn said, clearly perplexed.

"What's that a screenshot of?" Olivia asked as she leaned in to read the blurb underneath the photograph. It promised more details to come.

"Looks like a video grab," Huck said.

This caused Olivia straighten and look at him and then Quinn. "We missed video?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thank you all so much for your feedback and for the encouragement to continue on. Sorry it took so long for this update, but you know how things can get around the holidays. ;) Love and respect, d.<strong>_


End file.
